Different Here
by Annabrea-Shaw
Summary: 'So many things are different here.' He told her. She agreed. She knew. She was almost used to it. 'Everything is different.' He said, 'Everything was supposed to be better.' 'So sorry, Rose. So, so sorry' ::Drabble. Read me. Review. Suggestions for new title?::


They traveled a lot, those first few years. Life was like one long working vacation, courtesy of Torchwood, with new places and adventures and so much _running_. Hands held, they marveled at the world by day and made love sweetly each night.

'So many things are different here.' He told her. She agreed. She knew. She was almost used to it.

First he saw the big things. The sky at sunset never turned burnt orange, like the Earth back home. Here sunsets were a brilliant, shining silver. Metal compounds in the atmosphere, he said, that weren't there in their version.

Newton's Laws of Motion didn't exist here. Instead of the Third Law, the renowned scienceman Marvin Gray said "Many actions occur without reaction." In this universe, forces operated independently of each other, without rhyme nor reason.

The stars were different, he realized. Imagine all the planets out there they'd never seen! Never would see if this world's Torchwood couldn't invent space travel in the next fifty years.

All of history was different here, sometimes just a name or two, but other times entire centuries had been added or deleted. There were new languages, new species. Not just on Earth either; several times they encountered an alien race that he had never heard of, could not communicate with.

She learned that his greatest strength was his speech. Often unable to reason with hostile invaders of their new home, he grew frustrated. Once frustrated, he would become angry. When angry, he could become cruel.

Now Rose realized that she hadn't been solely responsible for changing the Doctor – her Doctor – after the Time War. Her purpose had been to provide him with incentive, a reason to calm the fires behind his eyes, while he used his abilities to bring peace where once there'd been war.

This new version – this man – had incentive but no will. He saw himself as useless, she knew, without his greatest skills to fall back on. If he could not foster resolution between humans and a new species, then he could still destroy the unknowns.

The first time, he cried himself to sleep in her arms, curled up on a dirty couch in West Moscow. The third time he wanted to be alone, and left the shower running long past the last drop of warm water. The eighth time, dinner grew cold next to where she lay on the table while he kissed every inch of her. The twelfth time he grinned, and wanted to make love all night. She woke up the next morning, bruised and sore, to an empty bed.

She resigned Torchwood before the fifteenth time.

The seventy second time didn't happen on Earth. Finally Torchwood had invented reliable space travel. He was an old man now, hair grayed and skin wrinkled, and elected to stay behind in his top floor office in Torchwood Tower. Rose read the headline the next morning.

**TORCHWOOD HEAD ORDERS DESTRUCTION OF HOSTILE MARTIANS**

**Planet Population 15.6 Billion**

The world was different here, she knew. He didn't love her anymore, didn't need her. He could not be saved. She could not get used to it.

He died the day after time one hundred and two. The news broadcast a series of photos of him, several from the early days with her by his side. 'A hero' they called him, 'Earth's protector'. A grating noise echoed through her home, drowning out the television. The blue box of her youth appeared in her living room.

The Doctor had a new face now, but behind his eyes smoldered the same cooling fire he'd had the day he left her.

'You never should have left us.' she told him. He agreed. He knew. He'd never gotten used to life without her.

'Everything is different.' He said, 'Wrong. Everything was supposed to be better.' He held her wrinkled hand between his smooth ones. 'So sorry, Rose.' He said. 'So, so sorry!'

She cried herself to sleep in his arms, curled up on her own pink and yellow couch.

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AN -

No explanation. I sat down to write something (mostly) happy about Rose and Tentoo. This is what came out. Thoughts? Comments? Hate it? Review.

Love, me


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